


Dockyard Hustle

by BlueMeansStop



Series: Stone and Feather Series [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Fighting, Gangsters, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mafia AU, Minor Injuries, Mobsters, Papyrus is a cinnamon roll, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, crude language, mafiatale, reader works too hard, too good for this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMeansStop/pseuds/BlueMeansStop
Summary: Ebott City, a once bright and flourishing metropolis has become an epicenter of crime. Ruled by Mafia, gangs and corrupt police, Ebott has become a desolate hellhole on the verge of collapsing into itself. You are a simple, unassuming human trying to make it in a harsh reality, living day by day with your head down. Yeah, good luck with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Stone and Feather, my take on the Mafiatale AU. I’ve mish mashed, smashed together and made up my own background material to create an independent little world. There will be some similarities to other AUs, I do take inspiration from them, but the core of this is of my own construction. The S&F series will be Reader centric, following you, as you struggle to live in a corrupt city ruled by Mafia and Gangs.
> 
> If you haven’t read my other works, I just want to reiterate I am awful at writing. I have a decent grasp of the basics but be aware of awkward wording, wonky idioms and unintentional shifts in voice. Stay in school kids, don’t be like me. I don’t think I’ll have a set schedule to this, S&F is a massive in depth WIP and I would rather take my time with it.
> 
> For future reference, Foxtrot Folly and Quickstep Query (from my one shots) are apart of this AU, but they will be overhauled, changed and expanded upon to better fit my plans. So, enjoy this vaguely linear timeline series.  
>  **WARNINGS:** Alcohol mention, drinking, crude language.

The phonograph was a curious sort of machinery, something that had always piqued his interest and tugged at impulses to ponder at the inner workings. The staccato rhythm of the skipping needle was an annoying lull in the silence until skeletal fingers traced the wooden tone arm, nudging it gently. The first upsweep of ivory keys had phalanges tapping in mirrored prose as a cymbal crashed once, echoing with a tinny sound from the wide mouth horn as a simple drum beat fell into line. The pianist was a talented individual and one could hear the decades of a finally honed craft in the deftness of notes, skittering with a jazzy pulse that was only matched in prowess of the saxophone player. Now there was some real moxie if he ever did hear.

“Pap, I don’t think you should go out today.”

The record skipped, the sweet music stuttering before it found its rhythm again. Oval sockets tipped in the direction of the slurred murmur, but otherwise remained focused on adjusting the obstinate handkerchief to lie just so in the breast pocket of his suit. Papyrus fussed with the petulant ruddy silk until he was satisfied with it and looked up in the floor length mirror he stood in front of. He glanced across his own reflection, gaze falling to the scars that cut through bone, stretching upward from an eye socket, another mirroring in reply and cut down the zygomatic bone. They were neat, clean, and almost surgical in their precision and really the only reason he tolerated them. A dash of roguish danger to an otherwise excellent and orderly appearance. Trailing a hand down the front of his suit, he tugged on the hem of the fine black spider silk and adjusted the elegant cuff link on his sleeve until it lay perfectly.

Movement finally shifted his gaze and he eyed the lounging skeleton across the room, taking stock at the lack of manners as his brother slouched with what could only be described as a sullen flair of casual defiance. His skull lolled leisurely, a careless leg tossed over the chaise’s sloping armrest as he rolled a crystal glass in hand. The cubed ice clinked against one another in the amber liquid before he tipped it back, finishing the impressive amount with a casual swallow. He ignored the drop that slipped from the corner of his mouth, trailing past the faint blush of a bruise forming, ivory bone all but telling. Papyrus could only surmise the hundred of different reasons for the bruising. 

The chastisement of scuffed shoes on his imported méridienne caught on the edge of his teeth before Papyrus gave a subtle roll of faint eye lights, one faintly dimmer than then the other. Instead, he choose to humor his brother, returning his attention back to his mirrored self, looking for any minute specs of lint or a rouge thread to pluck and tried not to squint as he fixated on a small white hair and disdainfully pulled it loose, watching it flutter harmlessly to the floor. “May I ask why?”

Tapping phalanges against a knee, matching scarred eye sockets lofted back toward the taller skeleton. A single golden eye light smoldered in the empty cavern, the edges of the bright magic already hazed from inebriation. While the taller skeleton’s scars were neat and tidy, his looked and felt weathered and old, constantly agitated by the outside world. It didn’t help that he scratched at one, picking at the bone until it ached in low heady waves. He watched Papyrus for a moment, his brother cutting an impressive figure with his height, stature and the confident way he carried himself.

“Just one of those feelings,” he muttered, peering back into his empty tumbler and knocked back one of the melting ice cubes to crunch noisily on.

“You and your feelings, brother.” Papyrus huffed, before continuing, voice growing softer in reassurance. He made sure to meet his brother’s sockets in the mirror briefly, ensuring the other was listening. “I’ll be fine.”

The corners of his mouth twitched at the less than subtle placation as G stretched backwards to reach for the tray of hard liquors that had been set out. His spine arched and popped quietly and refrained from giving a satisfied groan, knowing the other hated it when he did so. G eyed the gin with a longing look and idly wondered if his brother would miss it amongst the others. Of course he would, he instantly mused. Papyrus didn’t miss anything, especially when he so rarely drank. Still, he appreciated the sentiment his younger brother would keep a variety of booze for his visits and poured himself more than a few fingers worth of bourbon from a crystal chalice.

“The old man and I are headin’ out to a meeting. You should come with us.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that.” Papyrus tsked disapprovingly. “Father deserves more respect than that.”

G snorted. “Sure,” he answered, tipping the glass again to watch the light filter through the amber liquid, casting a soft glow against bone. Dark faint lines etched groves under his sockets in what could almost be passed off as aesthetically tired, adding to his charm. They were faint, barely noticeable in the right light and their _father_ cared little about his actual appearance except for how it reflected on him. As long as he was sober enough, that’s all that mattered. He took another long drink.

“I have some business to attend to at the dockyards this morning, because a certain someone has neglected his family responsibility in favor of, what did you call it?” Papyrus lofted an eye ridge as he affixed a fresh, white rose to his lapel. “A night of rabble rousing with a bearcat of a dame.”

His elder brother chuckled at that and didn’t have the grace to look sheepish about it. “Just be careful, yeah?” 

Satisfied with his appearance, Papyrus spun around and eyed G’s rumpled clothing with a furrow of his brow. He distinctly remembered the cream colored shirt from the night before and with a scrutinizing sniff, took note of the smear of red lipstick along the wrinkled collar. Motioning for him to stand, G obediently climbed to his feet with a groan and allowed himself to be fussed over, keeping the playful eye rolling to a minimum.

“If you put as much effort into avoiding your duties as you did your appearance, you’d be as spectacular as I.” Papyrus fixed his tie, straightening it before plucking at the creased seams of the shoulder in an attempt to make it lay straight. He eyed the crooked hem and G graciously set his empty glass down to tuck in his shirt while Pap went for seltzer water to dab it at the collar in vain.

The edges of his mouth curved into a genuine smile, just at the cusp of reaching his tired gaze. Without batting a socket, G tugged on his tie to loosen it. “You make it look flawless, Pap, don’t think I could ever compare.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, brother.” Hands lightly shooed his away as the tie was reaffixed. The phonograph slowed to a crawl as the record finished, falling back into the monotonous scratch of the needle. Papyrus cupped his brother’s face, tilting his skull up and down to ensure there wasn’t more stubborn lipstick hidden away and gave a quick affectionate pat to smooth cheekbones. Happy with what he found, he broken away to grab his hat, a wide brimmed, black fedora and settled it across his brow giving it a subtle downward tilt over his left eye socket. “How do I look?”

“Dapper as always.”

Papyrus laughed warmly, a faint tinge of orange gracing the edges of his skull and he brightened, adding a hopeful, “Will you and father be back this evening?”

G shrugged as he patted himself down. “If all goes according to plan. Knowing the Families, nothin’ will get done today.” He bent, rooting around in his discarded jacket on the floor and pulled out a flat silver case. “We’re beatin’ a dead horse here.”

“Crude, but accurate.” Papyrus pushed the case closed with a single finger before his brother could pull a cigarette free, making sure his unspoken message was clear. “Is it the Mannino Family?”

“Who else.”

The younger skeleton hummed at the light scoff, drawing his head back at the pair of dark rimmed glasses presented to him in a not so subtle rebut. How his brother managed to find them, certain he had accidentally dropped them into an open drainage system last week. They looked remarkable brand new and clean. Papyrus accepted the rims, nudging them into place and tried not to wrinkle his nose ridge at the foreign feeling of them settling on his skull. The haze of his vision cleared significantly, as did G’s grin.

“They’ll come around,” he mused. “Don Calogero is a smart man and allying himself with the other Families will only strengthen his own.” 

Papyrus received another noncommittal shrug. “Maybe this time around, it’ll be different.”

____________________

It had been a crisp clear morning in Ebott City; the weather had been a little finicky in the late of autumn, but with the sluggish rise of the sun it promised to be a decidedly warm day. Still, the early morning frost drove most indoors to warm hands and stomp feet. The appointed jetty had been tucked away from the normal hustle and bustle of the dockyards, situated near the impending manufacturing district. There were a couple of newly built warehouses; the smell of fresh paint lingering in the air, that were just completed last month. Most were being used as normal storage for the time being until the district could find the rest of the funding to complete its start up. With time it would become a lucrative business and Ebott would be able to further expand itself. The city was slowly crowding in on itself and the need to grow was imminent. Until then the secluded area made for great private dealings.

The early hours passed with relative leisure as Papyrus conversed with a few humans milling around him on the dockyards. He easily stood head and shoulders over the tallest, commanding immediate attention and begrudging awe and seemed duly aware of the aura he processed. He accepted it with a graceful ease that despite his looks, eased even the skittish of souls.

Papyrus pressed a hand to his chest, an act of sincerity as he nodded his head in reply to another, absorbed with the elder man dressed in work clothes next to him. He was the scruffiest out of the group and looked like he belonged sailing treacherous seas rather than stuck working on the dockyards and the human chuckled heartily, cheeks tinted pink from working through the night.

“Thank you very much for your dedication, Samuel.” Papyrus spoke kindly, natural charisma seeping into his bright voice. He had spent the better part of the morning overseeing a shipment of illegal alcohol that had gone splendidly. It would have been a lot faster if he had his brother along side him; two were indefinitely better than one. Nevertheless, he accepted his duties with elation and a casual vigor that left those around him breathless from exertion.

Papyrus gave a deep bow of his head, surprising the assembled by his disposition. Few had worked with the younger Gaster brother, let alone along side him. The skeleton’s penchant for stepping in and helping had his crew buzzing with the strange encouragement.

“Ain’t no problem,” the dockworker replied cheerily and quickly, more surprised at the sudden warmth of awkwardness in his weathered cheeks. “Please, anything for you, sir.”

“The Family appreciates all that you do.” With a gracious thanks out of the way, the men were dismissed and parted ways, each heading off in different directions to finish their tasks of the morning. Papyrus contently watched them for a moment before speaking quietly, “Hello, Scylla.”

The small monster stepped out from behind Papyrus, pewter colored eyes drifting along the dockyard before they gave a bow of their rounded head. Alabaster skin that shimmered under the morning sun reflected the lapping water underneath, setting them aglow with a soft blue to their smooth features. Dressed in a simple black and red suit, the cut mirroring Papyrus and one he knew was chosen with care, they drew two of their four arms upward and fingers danced, weaving an intricate pattern.

“Yes, I did dismiss the others. Very astute of you, my friend.”

The monster ducked their head under the praise, their face a near void less mask of features but their concern shone through as they brushed a hand across their cheek, words forming soundlessly under the silent language.

Papyrus watched politely, letting the protective but curious intent filter through and held his tongue, knowing they wouldn’t like he was without his men. Scylla, perceptive as always had been chosen as his driver and had respectfully remained out of the way until they were needed. They had an inherent six sense about it, appearing when required without being called. G had called it spooky and Scylla had taken it with their usual grace.

Papyrus was the son of Gaster, a respected mafia boss and Don, and fully capable of taking care of himself. Still, there was no way of getting rid of Scylla even if he did try to send them away. They were infallibly loyal to the end. Turning, he settled a hand on their shoulder, drawing their gaze upward to meet his and he stared at his reflection in the mirrored eyes.

“Would you be a dear and bring the car around? I’d like to ensure our associates are working to their greatest potential.”

Hands raised in reply and Papyrus was already nodding, moving his hand to the small of their back to give them a gentle nudge toward the parked vehicle at the other end of the pier. He patted their hip as they conceded with a bow of their head and headed off.

Papyrus watched for a moment as they skirted around human and monster alike and with a light conspiratorial laugh to himself, pocketed the car keys he had slipped from the monster’s clothes. Scylla would be cross when they found out and he’d have to soothe it over by promising to never, ever do it again. He appreciated the sentiment and care, but he was hardly a baby bones. Papyrus tugged on the lapels of his jacket, smoothing the thick heavy material and headed off toward the wet market with a very clear task in mind.

Finally, he could take care of the extra business he had neglected to inform his brother and father about. He was going to make dinner. A perfectly, wonderfully cooked dinner where his little family would sit down civilly with one another and not bicker. As much. Papyrus tried to keep the frown from surfacing and remained confidently hopeful. Perhaps he would pick a nice bottle of wine to accompany the meal and help ease any budding tension.

Maybe two bottles would be better.

Pondering over the merits of wine and the appropriate amount, traces of the market slowly appeared and the skeleton glanced at the gaudy garland that hung along the front of a few fold out tables. Hand woven blankets tied in bundles piled atop of one another, something that smelled greasy and flavorful bubbled atop of a spirit stove, bowls and slices of fresh bread sat beside it invitingly on the side. Freshly dried plants and spices hung from the leaning cloth roof, leaving just enough space for the two women to work underneath. One stood hunched over a table, chopping cabbage at an alarming rate and Papyrus paused long enough to watch as she scooted it all with her knife into a waiting basket below. The other woman fried bacon, splashing the large pan with oil that had a faintly nutty smell to it.

After a while he moved on and the market trickled in until suddenly he was amidst the throng of it and Papyrus halted, pleasantly confused as he tapped the top of his shoe against the warn, wooden flooring of the pier front. The wet market butted against the rest of the market square, a scrawling section of temporary and permanent booths that had grown over the years into its confusing labyrinth. Bodies jostled for space in the narrow walkway between stalls crammed together. Different smells hung heavily in the air, battling against one another in a mix of spices, freshly chopped vegetation mingled with the flowery sweetness of baked goods, overlaid by the metallic waft of someone butchering something.

With only a sense of trepidation, Papyrus delved into the market blending into the myriad of monsters and humans. No one paid him any attention, patrons and sellers focused on their own. An older human brushed by him, carrying a sack of rice on his shoulder as he hustled by bent under the weight. Smoke and steam billowed out from under a tented makeshift stall and Papyrus held his breath as he passed through it. The lingering smell of peppery spices wafted after him and he blinked away the uncomfortable sensation from his sockets. His tasteful pair of glasses had been casually tucked into a side pocket of his jacket, forgotten as the morning wore on.

Coming to a crossroad of aisles, Papyrus paused and nearly had the toes of his shoes clipped as a cart carrying something delicious and sweet smelling rolled by. The owner gave a wave of an apology as they carried on, calling out their wares in a sing songy voice. It was very much a siren call as a gaggle of children appeared from everywhere, circling around the cart as it slowed. Striped sweaters and heavy coats danced about, children jostling each other to fall in line and Papyrus found himself smiling at the lot as coin was exchanged for what looked like sweet rolls.

A little girl remained as the others raced off, a ragged old jacket clinging to her small frame. She shifted from one foot to the other and bit her lip and tried to keep the shiver from creeping into her already shaky stance. The seller bent and drew their hands to the girl’s face, cupping her hollow cheeks in a familiarity that tugged at Papyrus’ soul. Straightening, the seller plucked their woolen scarf from around their neck and wound it around the child’s before producing a warm roll and pressed it into eager hands. The little girl vanished into the crowd, eyes bright and a grin that could rival his own.

Moving forward, Papyrus reached into his pocket and fished out a few coins and dropped them into the small jar nestled next to a stack of napkins on the cart. The seller bowed slightly and pulled a fresh bun from a steamer and made a surprised sound as the monster moved on, slipping through the crowds toward the wet market.

The salty smell of the ocean mixed with the heady scent of boats bringing in hauls cascaded against the aquatic that accompanied the marina life being sold along the open market stalls. Here was where the majority of the sea life was bought and sold and where most people congregated. Despite being open for hours, the marketplace was decidedly crowded with smaller groups sectioned off in bidding wars.

Drawn to the rapid fire of currency, Papyrus watched from the sideline, utterly enthralled as several humans squabbled over a large silver fish laid out on top of an impressive amount of ice.

A merchant raised his arms to draw attention back to bidding, a strange crook in his hands that he used to hook the mouth of the tuna and move it to a more presentable position. He smiled at the crowd and gestured for them to draw closer as the bickering subsided and eyes landed on Papyrus and urged him forward with a wave of a hand.

“Bidding will start at two hundred gold a pound.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act 2, what we’ve all been waiting for, the grand entrance of the Reader. I was originally going to post DH as a single fic but it just got way too long. No ones got time to sit and read this behemoth in one sitting.  
>  **WARNINGS:** Crude language, catcalling/assault, food mention.

“Human! Oi human!” A wheezy, rasp of a voice rallied behind you, pausing only long enough to cough wetly and spit before the dull thunk of bare feet plodded after your quick pace. “I’s gots somethin’ fer you ta grab ri’ ‘ere.”

You ignored the ugly fish monster trailing after you, missing the webbed hands grasping at the front of his baggy and stained pants. He laughed uproariously, elbowing a passerby to drag them into the taunting and was dutifully snubbed as the stranger kept walking. Fighting the urge to whirl around and tell him exactly what you were thinking, you continued to ignore the catcalls as you bent to grab a small wooden crate and hefted it carefully onto your shoulder. Shifting it with a light hop to center the weight and keep the edges of the wood from digging too much, you took off down a narrow catwalk.

Coming up from the loading dock into the back of the wet market, you sidestepped a large puddle and splashed through a smaller, deceptively deeper one. You grumbled when your old, worn out shoes were little match for the dirty water. Giving one foot a quick shake, you kept moving not wanting to give the lumbering monster behind you more ammo to cajole. You still had to deliver the crate of prawns to a nearby stall. It was as simple as weaving through the back alley and coming up behind a row of makeshift booths and shops.

Dropping the crate into a curtained off backroom, the door propped open with a dirty mop and bucket, you groaned appreciatively of the instant relief and rubbed your lower back. You eyed a monster slip by, carrying three crates easily and it only made you step it up double time. Spinning about, you headed back to the dockyard to pick up another crate, making the trek back and forth several more times until you needed a break. Leaning a hip against the wall, you ran a handkerchief across your face, sliding it to catch the slick of sweat along your neck and reveled in the cool air blowing from a rickety fan.

The rhythmic ting of metal became a source of focus, rocking the protective frame as it oscillated back and forth. You wished you had a proper set of gloves, the threadbare ones you wore did little but keep a few splinters from your palms. The steadily growing crowd of tourists and customers had been nudging at the back of your mind all morning, growing into a dull roar that left your temples throbbing in time with the fan.

_Think of the money_ , you told yourself. _Think of the paycheck at the end of the week_. Closing your eyes, you pictured your handsome and rightfully earned dues and sighed, finding a comfort in the metaphorical money that would line your pockets. Until you had to pay rent, buy groceries, split utilities and maybe scrap together enough coin to purchase some new shoes that didn’t flap when you walked. Wiggling your foot against the old tape you wrapped around the right heel to keep it on, you wondered if you could find a few small carpenter nails and reattach the rubber sole. _Just like shoeing a horse_ , you surmised.

_Don’t they shoot lame horses_?

You sighed.

Tucking the faded handkerchief into the back pocket of your trousers, you tugged on the suspenders that kept the ill fitting pants up and headed back down to the lower dockyards. You had a few more things to do and standing around lollygagging wasn’t going to make your morning go any faster.

Clomping down a side gangplank, you caught sight of an elderly Japanese man cleaning fish on the open docks. The rhythmic scrap of a knife against scales sent them flying like shards of iridescent glass, coating the front of his apron and arms in twinkles of shimmering color. You hadn’t realized you had slowed your brisk pace to a casual stroll to watch him break the fish down with what you could only guess was decades worth of a finely honed craft. It was beautiful, morbid, but it was an elegant craft, flawless and careful, quick fluid movements of the blade to create the perfect cut each time. You watched, enviously.

Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he noticed you staring and waved you over with the knife. Glancing around, you stepped closer and he offered you a slice extending it on the flat side of his butchering knife and nodded. You accepted it with a returned bow of your head, adding a quiet thanks before popping it into your mouth. You weren’t sure if you liked raw fish, having the rare chance to try it here and there but there was something about the texture, soft and buttery before the taste of the ocean hit you in the back of the throat. A smile crept forward as the man chuckled at your expression before washing down the cutting board with a nearby hose, sending unpleasant things cascading toward your soggy shoes.

Taking a few scurrying steps back, you knew you had get going and moved on to the small vessel you’d be unloading crates from. A tall, broad monster with green fur and horns looked to have finished the last of them and before you could head off, he spotted you.

“Kid,” he called, voice gruff as he chewed on a stump of a cigar.

“I got a name, ya know.”

He took in your annoyed glower with an unimpressed raise of his brow. “Yeah, yeah, all you humans look the same to me. Take these down to Wessons.”

You stared down at the three large crates of frozen fish. There was no possible way you could haul them across the boardwalk, let alone pick one up. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“Do I look like I’m smiling here?” From behind him, he produced a rickety looking dolly. It rocked awkwardly on loose wheels as he set it down in front of you with a clatter that threatened to upturn it.

You glared at him.

“Now I’m smiling.” With a jut of his impressive chin to get going, he turned back to the small ship and ambled up the gangplank with more finesse than you imagine the large monster capable of.

Turning your silent glare to the three inconspicuous crates, you pushed at one with the toe of your shoe and felt the slight give of it. Grumbling under your breath, you kept your few choice words unintelligible in the chance someone overheard you. Shuffling and dragging the first crate onto the dolly was easier than expected and you crouched low to pick the second one up, grunting under the additional weight. That too made it to the top of the first before you eyed the third. Would the dolly be able to hold all three? You didn’t have a way to check the time but you knew you couldn’t waste any more coming back. It was a bad idea but you didn’t have a choice. You’d already been late twice this week.

Wessons was on your way to your actual job, unloading fish was a side gig you picked up for a few extra coins. It’d been a stroke of luck, most dockworkers didn’t care for outsiders butting into their arena. But, being human had its awful advantages. Monsters may have been stronger, but so many refused to work with them. You felt bad about it, but you still had to make ends meet. With your back protesting, you hauled the third atop of the two and vowed to stretch when you got home. Kicking at the foot rung, you used your weight to pull the dolly back and carefully adjusted it, waiting for the whole thing to snap under the weight. When it didn’t, you took off.

Once you got moving, it wasn’t as bad you deemed it and made it past the docks into the actual market. You traversed the aisles with ease, people stepping aside or risked squashed toes and aching ankles as you carved a mostly straight path forward. You fought against a wobbly wheel that kept trying to steer you left.

“Look out,” you called to the back of a tall monster who moved immediately, excusing himself politely with a odd, lyrical chuckle. You didn’t bother to look past the extremely polished shoes as you shuffled by, left wheel taking a sudden sharp veer into a pothole. You cursed under your breath when you tugged on the dolly, finding you were fast stuck. With a groan, you strained against the weight, struggling to manhandle it free and nearly lost your footing when the whole thing popped free. Your brief moment of glee faded fast as the dolly lurched and tilted.

“Shit!” You struggled to catch the top crate as everything leaned precariously, threatening to spill and you knew better. You knew you should have secured it but you were too impatient and now you were going to have to deal with a crate of overturned fish. You might as well kiss that gold goodbye. 

An ivory hand shoved sideways at the toppling crate and suddenly the tall monster you nearly ran over was beside you, effortlessly pushing the wooden box back into place as you righted the whole thing, letting it rock back and forth until it settled.

“There you go, human.” He cheerfully stated as you mentally wiped your brow at the fast save and shifted your attention to your savior. You stared at the pristine white rose pinned to the front of a suit. Many monsters were naturally taller than humans and despite your height, it still set you a great deal shorter. An oddly thin white hand tapped fingertips against the crisp front of the dark suit and your attention was minutely drawn to the odd circle carved in the middle of their palm in a neat, perfect design and your hand ached in sympathy.

Your thanks caught in your throat when you tilted your head upward. A dreadful chill pooled in your chest at the living skeleton grinning down at you and tugged at the innate fear of losing one’s mortal coil to a smartly dressed harbinger of death. The previously amusing height difference made him tower over you and you reflexively jumped, startled at the eerily human aspect to the monster. He peered curiously at you, hollow empty sockets shifting in a way you didn’t expect bone to, tugging at the carved lines that trailed up his crown and down a bold cheekbone.

How very odd, you found yourself thinking. You didn’t think monsters could have scars. “Yeah…” You cleared your throat, squashing down your initial reaction, knowing you were going to have a long talk with yourself about it later. “Yeah,” you repeated, making sure you didn’t sound as distracted by your awful reaction. “Thanks, I appreciate it, sir.”

“Papyrus.” He announced the word as if it was the greatest thing ever and you might not have realized it was his name, if he didn’t press the boney hand to his chest again and nearly preened under your confused look.

“Okay.”

Papyrus looked a little out of place here. He carried himself quite well, straight backed with shoulders squared, someone definitely used to a finer lifestyle. You guessed he was some important businessman by the quality and tailor of his suit. If he was an actual skeleton, that would have required a dedicated hand in the garment district, as you couldn’t spot a single ripple or crease in the fancy attire. You were wholly and completely not envious of the fine, black leather shoes he wore. Your cold, tired feet however felt different. 

“Thank, Papyrus.” You repeated, making sure you actually sounded appreciative. You really were thankful he came along. Who knows how long it would have taken you to clean that mess up. Tugging on the handrail with a touch more finesse than before, you shouldered the weight evenly this time and missed the disappointed drop of shoulders.

Papyrus was quick to shake it off when he realized you were taking off and straightened importantly. “Do you require further assistance?”

“Nah, I got it.” You’d have waved your departing thanks but with currently trying to steer your dolly of frozen fish, you didn’t dare take your hands off it. You tossed a nod in his direction before moving on, concentration shifting from your helper to your end goal. You lost track of the monster almost immediately as you navigated your way through the mass of bodies, weaving your way toward Wessons at the far end of the wet market.

Dropping your dolly with a shudder, you looked up at the Wessons’ family sign over the large booth that took up an entire corner section of an aisle. A tall woman with black hair that threatened to burst from the swept up coif appeared from the back, bag in hand. You only gave a quick wave, pointed at the crates and when she nodded, you took off. You didn’t have a moment to spare, eager to get to your own job.

The stall you worked at didn’t really have a proper name, simply adopting your boss’s surname, as did quite a few in the market, but it was one of the more permanent ones and similar to the Wessons. Slipping to the back, you grabbed a leather apron, snaking it over your head and tied the excess around your waist as walked through the cold room. As you passed by a stack of boxes, you pilfered a crowbar from the top, hefting it in hand to test the weight.

Heading to the front of the more permanent shop, you slipped through the cloudy plastic curtain that separated the back from the more customer appropriate front and headed to the closest box where one of your coworkers was already. Short, red headed kid, couldn’t have been any older than you and you both exchanged solemn nods in a greeting before getting to work.

Jamming the crowbar into the sealed lid, you wrenched it open with a few quick jerks and got to work. You lost yourself in the simple labor, stacking different kinds of frozen fish in the most appetizing manner you could for passerby’s to ogle and poke at. A blue hued salmon nearly slipped between your gloves and you managed to wrangle it to plop it atop of its brethren and wondered if you’d get out early if you sold well.

A stout woman with a pinched face wandered up to speak to another one of your coworkers, an old timer by the name of Gordon. You watched form the corner of your eye as you jammed the scribbled price sign of the Dungeness crabs further into the ice, twisting it forward. He smiled and nodded at the woman’s requests and leaned away from her to shout a name.

Down toward the front another worker went for a fish, selecting one amongst others and with an overly dramatic call, swiveled toward you and tossed the fish in your direction. You barely managed to reach forward to catch it and not drop it, hugging it to your body for support. When you were certain you had a good enough grip, you repeated the motion, giving an exaggerated nonsensical yell and chucked the fish to Gordon. He caught it easily and wrapped the fish in butcher paper and twine before the unimpressed woman paid for it with a slight roll of her eyes.

Another customer came by moments later and the little theatrical play was repeated around the opposite side of the open shop. You sighed when the third time involved you, setting the floppy gelatinous octopus down to face the current chucker of fish and nearly got a cod in the eye. You shot a dirty look at them and they laughed uproariously at you. Excusing yourself to the back in the pretext of grabbing more goods, you stamped your cold feet and shivered in the cool air of the makeshift cold room. You were certain it wasn’t exactly up to standards, but you didn’t eat here.

The air conditioning unit rocked and buzzed angrily beside your head, working double time to compensate for the broken one across the narrow room more hallway than actual room and you tried not to rub your brow. More times than you cared for, you careened around the corner only to crack your forehead against the box. Still, the grumpy metal unit was an obnoxious alternative to the noise of the market.

A bellowing voice, signifying your boss filtered through the plastic and barked your name. You mentally saluted the unspoken command of front and center, grabbed a box of shrimp and headed back out.

“Hello again, human.”

You looked up from the display you’d just finished restocking and found your skeleton savior standing in front of you. It was still a little disconcerting to have a monster with human traits, as macabre as it was but you took it easier the second time. Wiping your hands on the towel you had hanging from your waist, your pruney fingers rejoiced in the break, having long since shed your gloves. There’d been a hole in one, trapping frozen ice to melt uncomfortably.

He smiled at you and you weren’t sure if was his natural look, or if he was genuinely pleased to be standing there. You couldn’t help but keep the sparkle from your eye, lips threatening to curl up into a telling grin as you said in your best mock serious tone. “You tailing me, Papyrus?”

The look of absolute aghast was more amusing than you let on. Papyrus clutched the paper bag he’d carrying closer to his side and you caught a few vegetables poking out from the top, carrots, possibly lettuce, a wrapped length of crunchy bread that made your mouth water and something monster made. You recognized the bag’s stamped insignia, coming from Myrtle’s both down the way. She usually made candy and sweets.

“I’m joshin’ ya.” The monster relaxed incrementally, the paper crinkling in his hands at the polite smile you adopted for customers. “What can I do for you?”

The shadow of a crease passed across bone and you nearly missed Papyrus talking staring at the impossible. “I’m looking for….” He trailed off, studying the shrimp you’d been piling into a neat little heap with a slight of puzzlement. “fish.”

“You came to the right place.” There wasn’t an once of sarcasm in your tone, only vague amusement as you shifted your mindset to something akin to professional and tried to ignore how fishy you smelled. “We got a shipment in this morning. Lobster and crab, halibut and salmon. These little guys here.” You gestured to the shrimp between you. “Maybe yellowtail…” Your gaze drifted as you ran through a list in your head, trying to remember what was actually here. Every day brought in something different.

Papyrus nodded along, brow still furrowed as he studied the miscellaneous fish on ice and shifted his paper bag to one hip, balancing it carefully.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

The monster gave a considering hum. “Something that would feed three. Though knowing my brother, he’ll merely pick at it before downing the cooking sherry.” Papyrus gave a slow disappointed shake of his skull, a tightness hitching his shoulders before he dropped them and added as if to himself. “He does try his best.” You shifted your weight, unsure how to responds to that. Luckily Papyrus soldiered on. “Perhaps, you have some suggestions?”

Oh. “Uh.” You returned elegantly and looked over your shoulder for help but every one of your coworkers looked busy, Gordon ever present at the front and ringing a patron up. “I’m not the best person for that.”

“And why not?” Papyrus glanced in the same direction, watching the other humans mill around and smoking in a group, taking turns taking drags from single cigarette clenched between cold red fingers.

You gave a helpless shrug of your shoulders. “I don’t, uh, really know all the types of fish.”

“It never hurts to try. Give it a go.” The monster empathically gestured toward the display stand encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll do splendid. What do you like?”

That was surprisingly reassuring. You exhaled loudly and combed through the variety of seafood in front of you. The more expensive and popular fish were toward the front where most people tended to congregate. Nowadays, you rarely ate anything that wasn’t on same and didn’t come out of a can. “I don’t eat a lot of fresh fish.”

“Why?”

This monster was just full of questions and you fought to keep the frown from forming, deciding to stick with being straightforward. “Ain’t got the gold for it. If you haven’t noticed, this is more on the pricier side for market goods. But.” You leaned forward a fraction and Papyrus bent to meet you halfway, adopting a look of utmost seriousness at the wisdom you were about to bestow upon him.

“If I’m going to be honest, it’s all the same stuff. People pay for brand name and we’re,” you vaguely gestured above you where a sign hovered and Papyrus tipped his skull upward to read it, “a big name. Go down to Elisabeta’s and you’ll get anything at least thirty percent cheaper. We get everything from the same boat.”

Papyrus studied you, sockets narrowing briefly as his skull dipped down to the approximation of your chest and then back up to your face. “What an honest human you are.”

The sub sequential head pat had you flinching and you scrubbed a hand where skeletal fingers once were, smoothing down the tangle of sweaty locks, annoyed by the act. What were you, some pet dog? 

The monster carried on, your natural glum look fading as he spoke. “It’s a rare trait these days and I appreciate it most empathetically.” He pressed a hand to his chest and gave a deep bow of his head.

That was a bit over the top. Head touching aside, you owed the fella and it wasn’t like your boss’ shop was hurting for money. Best to keep things moving along since the guy didn’t seem intent on leaving. “Sure. What does your brother?” You waited for Papyrus to confirm and he nodded.

“And father,” he added.

“And father like?”

Taking the question to heart, Papyrus adopted a stern façade and cupped the edge of his chin as he returned to studying the pile of shrimp, rereading labels. Using his distracted state, you glanced desperately behind you again for help, wanting to get back to not talking to anyone and working. Technically, you were working now, but semantics. It wasn’t his fault, you were never that good with strangers. You’d only taken this job on account you’d be working in the back without having to interact with customers.

Papyrus’ defeated sigh had you shifting your focus back to him and he looked entirely too crestfallen for an unsure choice of seafood. “I honestly don’t know. We hardly ever dine together.”

You gave a sympathetic shrug. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, if yer gonna-” You cleared your throat, remembering to keep up your professional appearance. “going to make and eat it, you might as well pick something you like.”

“I do so enjoy a good salmon or maybe shark?”

As expressive as the monster was, it was difficult to get a real read on Papyrus. You’d always been aware of being way too aware of everything. Made the big world a lot more cluttered than it needed to be and worked against you most of the time. You looked for visual cues and stared at the hand that clutched the bottom of the paper bag, hugging it to his side. You could tell a lot about a person by their hands and shoes. Hands spoke of the work or lack of work a person did and shoes spoke of where you’d been and how much money one made. You’d already gotten a peak at his shoes, which still made you think businessman, possibly a lawyer though he didn’t quite have the snooty air you pictured a lawyer having.

“Have you ever made any kind of fish before?” You asked. That left his hands and they were decidedly smooth looking. Could bone actually look different? Instead of callouses and roughness would they crack and chip? It made you self-consciously look at the back of your hands and the rough and dirty short nails.

“I admit, I have not.” He gave off just enough vagueness to be aloof. There was that slight drop of shoulders again and it was starting to paint a very sad image to you.

You inwardly groaned at yourself. “Tell ya what, I like salmon too.” _When I can afford it_. “You can do steaks. For an extra gold, I’ll clean and cut them for ya. That way ya season and grill to your liking and its duck soup from there. Okay?”

“You would do that for me, dear human?”

“Sure thing.” _Anything to get this moving along_. You flinched again at the hand jutted in your face and while you were momentarily drawn to the circular void in the middle of his palm, you politely looked up at the proffered handshake as the tall monster stretched across the display. 

“Where are my manners, you know my name but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”

“Uh…” You shook it quickly, but not before cleaning your hand again before doing so. You still smelled a little fishy but Papyrus hardly seemed nonplussed about it. The oddness of empty space your own palm tried to fill sent an odd shiver down your spine. “It’s uh, not important.”

“That’s a very silly name. Is it French?”

A wiry retort swelled within you before you realized Papyrus was teasing, giving you a broad cheeky grin. Giving a lighthearted chuckle of your own, you introduced yourself, sticking on a first name basis. “It’ll be a few minutes. You’re welcome to look around and come back later.”

“Do you mind if I watch?” At your hesitance, he pushed on. “For future learning. How can I hone my culinary skills if I cannot learn from the very beginning?”

There were certainly a lot better teachers than yourself, that older man from earlier who had given you a bite came to mind. But, if the monster wanted to watch, you really couldn’t say no. You conceded with a loose shrug that tugged at the leather apron. “Yeah, okay.”

Heading over to the salmon, you singled out a decent looking one that could feed three people and was immediately sidelined by another coworker. Bill. You could feel your insides curl in disgust already when he addressed you by your last name, pronouncing it wrong. Whether he did it on purpose or not, you still couldn’t tell. You were pretty sure which one, though.

“What are you doing,” he demanded, giving a flick of his blonde hair and it settles in curls around his temple. His breath stunk of cigarettes and booze, even the smell of fish surrounding you couldn’t cancel out the natural stench that wafted from him and you blinked a few times.

“Taking care of this guy.” You jutted your thumb behind you at Papyrus.

Bill scowled, stepping to the side to look over your shoulder and he stared hard, the cold steely blue of his eyes narrowing briefly and something flickered in his gaze. It was enough to make you turn to see what exactly he was looking at. “Do you have any idea who that is?”

“Should I?”

“You really are a dense…” The slur slipped from him easily in his oily tone, voice fading as if you wouldn’t actually hear the vileness behind it.

You shifted your grip on the fish to one arm, cradling it against your body and you shoved forward with your free hand, connecting sharply with his shoulder. You put enough force behind it to make him stumble back a step, surprised at the strength behind it. You moved into his space, stabbing a finger in his face as the blush of ire touched your cheeks, reddening them. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you hissed.

“What are you going to do about it?” He challenged, straining to stand taller than you, squaring shoulders and you could practically hear the crack of knuckles as he made a fist. The flagrant display only fueled the fire and you stepped even closer unflinching to his threat.

“Everything all right?” Papyrus had distractedly been refraining from poking at a small, glossy red octopus when he felt the harsh intent waft outward like a prickly cactus. He glanced between the two of you, frowning slightly at your glare directed at the man.

“Everything’s fine, sir.” Bill dropped his hand and smiled tightly at the monster. “I was telling my good _friend_ here.” He reached out to rest his hand atop your shoulder but you stepped out of his range. “…It’s time for their break. I’ll be taking over now.”

The obvious gesture didn’t go unnoticed and Papyrus’ gaze never left you even as you dropped your own and glared a hole in the floor, missing the subtle shift in his demeanor. Bill had seniority and as much as you didn’t care for him, having been the brunt of his callous harassment before, he outranked you. You hefted the fish in hand intending to set it down on the counter for Bill just as Papyrus spoke.

“If it’s all right, I’d prefer them to finish the job.” Voice cheerful as ever, there was a hint of something on the tail end that made you look up to the brightly smiling skeleton. He gave a little wave when Bill finally scoffed and walked away, not before giving you a sour glare. Though Papyrus hadn’t intended it, you were going to have to endure a lot more of Bill’s bullshit when he left. You could feel him hovering just at edge of your conscious. You couldn’t fault the monster, he didn’t know.

Might as well get this over with. You dropped your fish onto the clean, wooden countertop and bent to grab a few of the knives stored underneath and flipped on the small water faucet. Clear water cascaded over the top in a thin river and you rested a hand atop of the fish, drawing the knife in hesitation. You picked up the basics and the usual rundown of how to clean and gut but had yet to really try it. Hopefully Papyrus wouldn’t mind.

Papyrus chatted on about his morning walking through the market, relying little stories with a charming cadence that had you smiling. He only paused a few times when you brought the knife down with a few sharp whacks and you wondered if a skeleton could get ill. But, he was willing to tough it out and you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Still, you remembered why you wanted to get back to work. You were awful at small talk and instead listened as Papyrus prattled happily about finding a small stall filled with little, handmade wooden baubles.

The infectious laugh that bubble up from him pulled a reflexive chuckle from yourself and you glanced up from your work to watch as Papyrus leaned forward to bend over the display case, securitizing your selection of hard-shelled crustaceans. Across the aisle, smaller booths shouldered for space, most specializing in the more wet aspect of the market with live fish.

An aquatic monster, skin a myriad of reflecting corals and sea greens stood at the edge of the stall, studying across the way at your side of the shop. He munched on a small striped paper bag of popcorn, glossy black eyes unblinking. You went back to finishing up the fish, scrapping inedible pieces to the side and let the water wash away the rest. Papyrus’ startled cry had you looking up again as he tugged his phalange loose from a suction cup of a small squid.

The aquatic monster was joined by two humans, both dressed in smart crisp suits and one shuffled the newspaper in hand, bringing it up to cover his face. The second leaned over the monster to whisper something at him. You jerked your hand back, nearly slicing it in your distraction and absently wiped your hand on a nearby towel. Something gnawed on your attention, nudging it to shift your focus and you couldn’t reason why.

“Are you all right?”

“Just dandy, Papyrus.” You brought your head up to give him a reassuring smile and caught the man watching intently. When he realized you noticed him, he brought his paper back up. The aquatic monster shifted his attention slightly, looking to the left as he fished out another handful of popcorn. He wore a similar get up with a blue tie, much too nice to be browsing the wet market. He didn’t seem to mind a splash of water from a nearby tank that darkened his pant leg, instead going back to focusing on not yourself as you previously thought, but Papyrus.

“You in some kind of trouble?”

Papyrus gave a soft curious hum as you pointed with your knife behind him. The briefest flicker of light flared a soft orange in his sockets and a touch of color graced his cheekbones. “Oh no, that’s Sc-” He turned to face the chastisement of his dear friend, only to watch the trio scramble to act like they weren’t watching him.

“Actually, I do not know who they are.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the thrilling conclusion. S&F will continue on in a series of individual fanfics. Thanks for reading along and I hope you stick around for future stuff.  
>  **WARNINGS:** Crude language, violence, fighting, blood, injuries, food mention.

“Actually, I do not know who they are.”

The lingering pause; as brief as it was, felt cautious as Papyrus studied the trio with an open curiousness and you half expected him to turn around and greet them with a jaunty hello. Instead, he ignored the blatant pretending that they weren’t watching him with an intensity you were glad wasn’t directed at you.

“Really?” You asked in a vain attempt at that small talk Papyrus was better at and grabbed some butcher paper, wrapping up your respectable attempt at fish steaks. If some were a little thicker than others, it showed your sheer handiness with a knife. “They keep staring like they know you.”

Giving a thoughtful and annoyed hum at yourself, you looked around for the twine you thought you had and bent to root around underneath the display tables nearby. It gave you a moment of reprieve. Whatever company the skeleton kept was none of your business and he most certainly didn’t need to tell you about it. You didn’t know why you opened your big mouth about it in the first place. _Don’t say anything else, keep your head down and mouth shut. You didn’t see or hear anything._

Papyrus took your distracted state to glance over his shoulder, using the pretense to fiddle with his paper bag of groceries. They continued to stare at him and as a niggle of dread wormed itself further into his soul, he was not as worried. He was the wonderful and talented Papyrus, and none more apt then to take care of himself. But, it wouldn’t do to cause a scene, especially with the milling collection of civilians around him. While he wasn’t expecting any sort of tussle, if these interested bystanders intended not to keep the peace, so many could easily be hurt. Most importantly, you would be caught in whatever trouble might be brewing and he most certainly would not allow that to happen. He didn’t recognize the trio as Family and they definitely were not his father’s people. He doubted it was business related either. No one else was eager or daft enough to step into the Gaster Family’s territory of bootleg liquor, even with the prohibition tightening its strangled hold on the city.

You finished the second knot in the twine, tugging it tight to make sure if wouldn’t come undone and felt unexpectedly pleased with your work. “Here you go, Papyrus.” You handed the fish over and the skeleton accepted it silently, slipping it into his grocery bag.

“Have you a back entryway to your shop?” He pressed, words barely heard above the chatter of the market.

Curiosity nudged at you, prompting a hesitant reply. “…Yeah?”

“Do you mind I leave through it?” 

“I don’t know,” you returned skeptically, fighting the natural urge to say yes. No one was allowed in the back, especially possible lawyers with possible stalkers. It was equal parts health code violation and protection on your part because heaven forbid a customer hurt themselves and blame you for it. The ever-present grin faded from the skeleton and oblong sockets drooped and you caved at the monster equivalent of sad puppy eyes. Dammit.

“Get out of here.” You wiped your hands and made your way around to front to open the closed off gate that from kept patrons wandering inside the shop. “Go through there.” You gestured toward the plastic curtained doorway. “Take a right as soon as clear the trash cans. It’ll take you out into the alley and if you want to weave back into the market, go left.” You stepped aside, holding the gate open to let Papyrus through. “Right’ll take ya straight out in the middle of Fifth Street.”

The light hand on your shoulder squeezed appreciatively and you didn’t mind the warmth from the press of bone, tugging your attention upward to meet the sincere gaze directed down at you. You tried not to fidget under the fervor of it, the faintest dot of light emanating from the depths. “Thank you, human. I will never forget your kindness.”

“Yeah, all right,” you half grumbled, hoping none of your coworkers were watching. You really didn’t how you’d explain this. “Hey,” you called out, Papyrus turning at the hail. “Take care of yourself, Papyrus. Stay safe. It’s a rough city out there.” You didn’t expect the wink or the actual audible sound it made and you could only stare at the retreating figure of the skeleton as he slipped through the plastic divider of the cold room.

Leading the gate closed, it hit something before it could click shut and you swiveled your head to the hand blocking it. Dry, calloused fingers with oddly tinted fingernails gripped the edge before your gaze traveled up the smooth dark grey coat sleeve to an impeccably shaved angular face. He regarded you coolly before unceremoniously shoving the gate open, ripping it from your hand and strolled forward. Behind him, the second man with the newspaper followed, tossing the hastily rolled paper into a nearby trash receptacle.

“H-hey!” You yelled, hoping to draw the proper attention. “You’re not allowed back-” Your sentence ended in a rush of air as you were elbowed aside, knocking you back a few steps by the muscle behind it. Your backside hit the counter, allowing you to stay on your feet as you rubbed your sternum. “What the hell?!”

The men were already gone, the heavy swish of plastic their telltale sign of where they went. Without thinking you were on their heels, diving through the plastic and got a sharp whap of one of the slats in the forehead. The narrow hallway like room felt smaller with two large hulking bodies taking up space, backs turned as they lumbered in the direction you figured Papyrus had taken. Stacked crates lined the portioned wall to your immediate left as you swiveled to avoid the air conditioning unit. They were next in line to be brought up front, heavy, bulky, you wondered who had hauled them from the port when your work crew had a not so curious lack of monsters.

Past the A/C there was a sink to your right, a mop and bucket leaning against the steel basin and tucked up beside it was a small, makeshift cleaning closet, small enough to come up to your chest. It’d been cobbled together out of makeshift parts but did the job. Sitting atop of it was a bucket of fish parts, no doubt saved to sell back to the fisherman to use as cheap bait.

You had a brief thought of sanity of why you were picking up the bucket of chum before you lobbed at it the closet man, catching him in the lower back. It collided sharply, splashing the back of his suit with an unappetizing amount of watery guts that slicked the back of his pants and shoes. The bucket bounced away harmlessly, spilling more of its contents for the second man to slip in.

Both men turned and you stared down the muzzle of a handgun as it was brought up. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or pissed there wasn’t anyone else in the back as a heavy chill filled your chest, stealing your breath even as you raised your hands defensively. You tried to talk, voice faltering into a strangled sound as the hallway became even more crowded with the single, unwavering black hole filling your vision.

A glimmer of seawater reflecting to your left in shimmering soft oranges slipped into your peripheral and suddenly the aquatic monster was in front of you, half turned toward the men. At first, it was as if he was shielding, using his body to block the path of the gun when he glared at the men and hissed.

“ _Not Hee **e** ere_.” It was a sibilant whisper, almost sultry in the heavy purr that distorted the human words in an odd echo, masking the words until they cascaded into one another. It made your head hurt just to listen to it. Clawed fingers curled around the barrel of the handgun, covering it and pushing it down wordlessly until the human slipped it back into his jacket.

The monster swiveled back to you, curling themselves downward and only then you realized how tall they actually were, their bulbous head flaring like the warning of a snake as the color shifted around their temple and crest. You instinctively crossed an arm in front of your face, flinching as the air shimmered with magic around the creature. “ _Ss **s** tay Out Of Thi **s** sss, Kid._”

You never liked being told what to do. The monster turned on his heels to usher the others onward, leaving you to stand in the middle of the room, the irritating command echoing in your ears. What were you doing?! Your eyes flicked across the room, trying to conjure up something from the depths of your memory. You passed through here so many times, you’d think you’d stop smacking your head on the A/C unit. Sink to the right, crates to the left, wood, metal, plastic. A blurred shadow hovered at the edge of your vision but when you turned, in hopes of it being another person standing at the entryway, there was only plastic slats swaying heavily. The toe of your shoe brushed against the discarded yellowed bucket and you kicked it sharply with a hollow thump before your smarter, inner voice could tell you to stop. It collided hard with the back of the previous gunman’s head and you were faced with a quick choice. A butcher knife sitting in the sink, an opened crate of fish thawing, and the crowbar that had been used to open the crate.

The chill of scales bit into your numb fingers as you wrenched a sizable fish free from its frozen home and lobbed at the gunman’s face as he turned. You only needed it as a distraction to snatch the crowbar in hand, cold metal threatening to tear layers of skin from your fingers as you clenched it tightly. You tried to catch the other off guard, swinging hard and wild, enough to jerk yourself forward and off balance as the man scrambled backwards to avoid it and the second equally wayward swing that nearly sent the crowbar flying from your hands.

A foolish, giddy grin found its way to your lips until the monster turned back to you. A clawed hand rose upward, carving a direct path toward the low ceiling of the room and you realized a second too late, the shimmer of magic that surrounded him had condensed into a halo. The halo cracked into splintered shards that reminded you of starfish before the monster snapped his hand forward, the magic bullets following the command.

You couldn’t dodge them and you could only conclude the intent hadn’t been to kill you as you lurched toward the crates of fish for cover. Wood splintered around your head, something snapped behind you, plastic being ripped to shreds as the white starfish hurtled around you. One caught your shoulder at an odd angle, spinning you around by the force as it bounced off, a second went through your calf in a searing line of pain and you stumbled, throwing an arm up to keep yourself from kissing the ground and scrapped your chin.

The over abundance of magic in Ebott City meant for an array of types and differences and how it affected a person through intent and control. Some attacks were physical and tangible like any normal human weapon, while others were mental, based more off a feeling and emotion. The starfish didn’t leave a physical wound, but shit if it didn’t hurt like a bitch. Agony burned like hot venom from your calf but it was already fading into a dull ache that you could live with.

The cool, rough textured flooring beneath cut into your palms as you shifted, drawing your legs under you to stand when you were hauled up by the back of your neck. Pin prickles of fear ran across your skin as you were released, only for the clawed hand to twist the front of your shirt. Knuckles dug into your collarbone as buttons strained and popped and you were lifted high enough to make you dance on your toes for balance. The eerie alien black eyes stared unblinkingly at you reflecting your inky echo, a mirror of wide eyes and strained grin.

“ _S **s** shouldn’t Have Done Tha **a** at_,” he growled as another wave of the ocean smell washed over you. What you previously thought what was the crest of his head peeled away in spidery, disjointed limbs and stretched forward to touch your face, scrapping sharp edges across your forehead and cheeks, nearly gouging one of your eyes. You shuddered under it as you struggled against the iron grip. 

“Let go of me.” You tried to breathe a healthy dose of contempt into your voice, but the words spilled out too hastily and shaky to have an effect. You’d nearly forgotten the crowbar in your numb hand until much longer fingers wrapped around your fist and squeezed roughly. Your other hand was preoccupied at clawing at the grip on your shirt threatening to choke you as the thin material strained under your weight. Your brain had the habit of focusing on the less than important details and you hoped the shirt wouldn’t be too badly damaged. You really couldn’t afford another.

“I believe the human said to let them go.”

The aquatic monster shifted his stance, shoulders squaring and you could only stare over the sharp angle of one at Papyrus with his bag tucked against his side. It was futile to see where exactly the opaque eyes were staring, the slight tilt of the monster’s head and withdrew of spidery limbs threatening to gouge your eyes out was your only inclination he acknowledge the skeleton. Your gaze kept flicking from the offending limbs to Papyrus back to the limbs as they twitched and shuddered.

“Papyrus,” you wheezed, the hand tightening more and you contemplated biting it. Short nails dug into rubbery skin, indenting it without a mark. You were way over your head, having no one to blame but yourself for interfering. But, even so, whatever this businessman-lawyer was apart of, neither of you needed to be here. The instinct to protect the monster overruled everything and you let out a harsh, “Run!”

Guiltily he shifted his bag forward, your bundled fish poking out from the top and he raised his chin a fraction. “I didn’t pay.”

Was he actually serious? Did this goofy monster have a death wish? You’d have shaken your head at the absurdity of the situation and instead made a strangled grunt when you were lifted further, realizing you had renewed your struggling when the two humans faced off against him. Your misplaced amusement immediately plunged into an icy dread that matched the chill of the cold room.

Without sparing a glance at the men, one already reaching into his jacket for his gun, Papyrus calmly set his bag down and avoided the small puddles of cloudy water. Deft fingers went to his coat, catching the buttons until he shrugged out of the heavy material and folded it neatly, settling it over his arm. His gaze never left yours, a steely resolve that you latched onto in the flickers of a deep orange in the depths of his sockets.

“ _Don’t D **u** uuust Him_,” the aquatic monster instructed.

Obediently the hand moved away and clenched into a rough fist. The second man was already striding forward confidently, reaching out to grasp a handful of the sleek jacket of the monster. Papyrus ran a hand down his overcoat, smoothing out a wrinkle and shifted a foot along the floor, sidestepping the ill thought out capture. Like a blustering cape to a charging bull, Papyrus tossed his coat over the man’s head blinding him and swung a leg out, sweeping it to give a blunt kick to his backend, sending him staggering in a flail of limbs past him.

The first seemed to rethink his objective and snatched up a discarded L bracket that once housed the second air conditioning unit. He didn’t give Papyrus time to round about and swung hard, regardless of the command of their boss. Papyrus bent backwards sharply, further than a normal spine allowed and watched the weapon sail over his head. He gave it a moment before he reeled up and forward like a spring and slammed the brunt of his forehead into the man’s head. The bent metal clattered to the ground and the man stumbled back before crumbling to the ground.

The intent in the room shifted and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end as the remaining man tore the coat from his head, dropping it on the ground as a sneer threatened to split his face in two. Malice churned in the air despite the aquatic’s monster warning. Humans were inherently flawed at keeping the sway of intentions from bleeding into their actions. It was what made you all intrinsically dangerous to monsterkind.

You originally misjudged your lawyer monster so, so much as he faced the open hostility with a brush of his sleeve, picking off a few motes of imaginary dust. A flicker of disappointment flittered across Papyrus’ skull as his coat was purposefully stepped on and the curl of his head had a flicker of orange wafting alone white bone.

“There’s hardly a need for rudeness,” he chastised, easing back a step as the man lurched forward, swinging a fist hard enough that he was certain would have dealt quite a blow if it had landed. “I must insist you stop this utter nonsense.” Sweeping his arm down, he intercepted a fist aimed for the left side of his ribs, brushing it aside with a controlled backhand and jerked his head back in the same instance the fist tried for his skull, skirting just past the front of his nasal bone. “Or you will force my hand.”

The grip hadn’t loosened from its stranglehold, leaving your shirt a lost cause. But, the monster was distracted, attention drawn to Papyrus as if he hadn’t expected the other to fight back. You were just as taken by the effortless skill and grace as the skeleton evaded the lumbering fight. Now if only you could do something, now with the second man finally climbing to his feet, swaying heavily as he gripped his head. Two against one was hardly fair.

The snappish spidery limbs settled in agitated twitches around your antagonist’s head, close to sinking back down into a crest and without thinking snapped a hand up and tugged harshly on one of them. It felt like bone and leather and you fought against recoiling. At the same time you kneed the aquatic monster in the groin, knowing no matter what was actually down there, it’d hurt with the right intent behind it. A hiss and a growl of pain was your victorious reply and the monster released you to wobble on solid ground.

You tried to yank away, only to have the crushing grip on your other hand squeeze exponentially, enough for delicate bones in your fingers to grind ominously. His grasp didn’t allow you to release the crowbar and it hovered in the air beside you in the façade of a lover’s clasp. You half expected a morbid game of, quit hitting yourself as your arm locked unconsciously at the thought. A fearful flicker of your eyes to the crowbar and then you were moving.

He didn’t expect you to turn into him in an abrupt pivot that put you so intimately close, you felt his entire body shudder as he exhaled against your back. With a hairsbreadth between you, it left you little room to jab your elbow backwards but you reared back, catching him square in the stomach. He was as solid as a rock and it was like cracking your funny bone on a wall in an uncannily funny moment. Strike one. Elbow throbbing, you tried again, arching painfully upward to clip him across the jaw.

You missed the chocked cry of the man as he was forced to a knee, clutching at the skeleton hand that bent several fingers backward until it hurt to look at it. Papyrus sighed, almost regretfully as the human’s partner collected himself before taking a step forward. “I did give you ample warning.”

Strike two. The jaunty stab of your elbow only seemed to annoy the monster more and not wanting to find out what happened when you struck out, you blindly grasped at another spidery limb and yanked. Desperation made you reckless and there was a snap that echoed from Papyrus and the appendage fell limp in your hand. The sharp inhale was overshadowed by the rush of magic that welled up around you. It was blinding and cold, threatening to steal your breath away and you felt heavy and light at the same time. The crowbar clattered to the ground and you hunched forward, tucking your injured hand close to your body in a protective gesture and spun around.

You saw starfish, figuratively and literally when your soul clenched painfully, forcing you down in a stumble and the fist aimed for your nose was thrown off. You still caught it along your forehead and there was a sharp, searing pain that left you disorientated. A hand came at you and you ducked clumsily, rounding in a low crouch. It felt like you were moving in circles, but a moving target was a lot harder to hit then a stationary one. At least that was been what you’d been told. Your head pounded heavily as you took stock of the situation, everything jarring with each beat of your heart. You could hardly call yourself a fighter, but here you were, facing the aquatic monster headlong and deliberating how to take him down.

“I advise you to step away from the human.” The heaviness in your soul lifted as the briefest flicker of blue magic dissipated from Papyrus’ hand as he lofted it toward your foe. Magic crackled in the air, earthy and bitter as deep rusty orange flames flickered over the monster’s hand, coalescing into the rudimentary shape of a socket heavy bone. You guessed femur by the club like appearance as it hovered in the air before Papyrus snatched it up, giving it a heavy twirl and you could sense the solid, tangible weight behind it.

He held the club like a baseball bat, curling his body sideways as he stepped past the man on his knees clutching his disturbingly twisted fingers and the second was stumbling backwards by the impeccable swing. It had the force to take the man’s head off and he went down hard, unconscious but alive. The aquatic monster whirled around, hands held behind his back and magic swirled around his fingers like shards of light as they curled into claws. Papyrus couldn’t see them as he advanced, giving a low swing of his club and settled it on his shoulder.

For the second time fear for the skeleton’s safety overrode your own and you shot forward unthinkingly and slammed you shoulder into the monster. He grunted, stumbling forward a step by your weight and spun around, magic arcing but you were still moving. Swinging your injured hand up, you ignored the twinge of pain and curled it into a fist to use your arm to block. Even if you weren’t stooped from your hasty tackle, the aquatic monster towered over you and you followed with a wide loping arced punch that was less actual punch and more cuff. Your wet shoes slid along the floor as your weight shifted to counterbalance and struck the monster along his temple at the base of the broken spidery limb. You may not have been much of a fighter, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know how. One couldn’t survive Ebott without a few street smarts under the belt.

Magic bloomed around you, blinding you for a moment before you staggered back, unharmed. It hurt to breathe, the air heavy as you stepped out of the residual use of magic and the aquatic monster glared at you, the telltale sign of blue glowed faintly from beneath his suit. Behind him Papyrus held the monster at bay with a casual sweep of fingers, club still resting casually on his shoulder.

“I believe you’ve come at a crossroads, _friend_.” A shiver ran down your spine at the skeleton’s tone, unable to pinpoint why exactly. “What you choose to do now, will determine whether you walk out of here or my human will use that,” he inclined his skull toward the broom beside the sink. “to help.”

Your heart threatened to jackhammer out of your chest, the dull thud reverberating in your ears and you felt like everyone could hear it. The addictive pull of adrenaline left you trembling, strung tightly between remaining vigilante and the sudden effort it was to keep standing. You challenged the glare with one of your own as you kept your defensive stance up. The monster’s gaze slid from you back to Papyrus and the defiant silence was excruciating. You flinched when the other finally spoke.

“ _All Right. We Will Le **e** eave_.” He let the last word trail off into a growl and let the magic fade from his hands. Simultaneously the blue magic winked out and you tensed when the monster flicked his arms up to tug on the front of his suit. He took a deep, quiet breath to collect himself and gave a subtle roll of his eyes when his men struggled to get the other up.

“Please, do take care of yourself. I suggest ice and monster candy.” Papyrus touted as the monster stalked over to help pick up the unconscious human and shoulder his weight. “The way you came in, please. There you go, don’t trip.” He followed the trio as they ambled toward the front of the stall. The aquatic monster tried to look at you, but was blocked by Papyrus. “We don’t shuffle like hooligans now.”

Papyrus ushered them through the plastic curtain and stood in the doorway, watching until he seemed satisfied with their progress. You hadn’t moved, hands throbbing as the plastic slats slapped against once another and you startled when a boney hand rested atop of yours, circular hole allowing you to see the white of your knuckles through them. With little resistance, Papyrus gently pushed down until you dropped your arms. Your breath left you in a rushed exhale and you took a shuddering breath in, cold air hitting your teeth in one quick jarring inhale and you sagged minutely.

“You’re quite the scrappy fighter.”

You stared incredulously at the smiling skeleton, his demure voice slowly working its way into your head to soothe away the tension. Somewhere he had dismissed his magic construct, making him only slightly less intimidating. The sheepish drop of shoulders helped as did his smile and you watched, unmoving as Papyrus rubbed the back of his neck with a youthful charm.

“Thanks?” You weren’t sure how to answer, everything slowly catching up. You swayed, missing the outstretched hand and groaned, gingerly flexing your sore fingers. Everything wiggled and moved stiffly. What in the hell just happened? _I’ll tell you what you dumb ass, you got caught up in the moment like always_. “That… that was,” _Insane, crazy, mad_. “amazing.”

If a skeleton could fluff themselves up, you were certain Papyrus would have gone full strutting peacock, preening under the compliment. His hand went to automatically smooth down your wild locks, giving you something to focus on and you just resisted the urge to bat it away. You took another much-needed deep breath and concentrated on calming your whistling.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in my affairs.” Papyrus plucked at a few strands of hair sticking to your face, fussing with them and touched the edges of your bangs before you moved slightly. He took the cue and stepped back.

Your face itched uncomfortably and you rubbed your cheek with the back of your hand, glancing at it as if expecting to find something. You asked before you could stop yourself, a part of you feeling vindicated in knowing why you tumbled head first into the fight. “Who were those guys?”

“I don’t know who they were, honestly.” Papyrus sighed, sounding as puzzled as you were.

You mirrored his exhale and scratched your head, mussing up the monster’s hard work as you glanced around at the mess. You needed to find something to focus the jittery energy still thrumming through you. Someone was going to have to take a hose to the fish parts before they congealed. “Look,” you said, tone neutral and careful. “It’s none of my business, really. I don’t need the trouble. You better get out of here before those mooks decide to come back.” You bent to grab the discarded crowbar, ignoring your leg’s protest.

“Wait!”

Standing up, you stared dumbly at the presented gold. Oh, right. That’d had been why Papyrus had come back. You’d forgotten to charge him for the fish. You accepted the coins, running a thumb along the smooth surface and tightened your grip on them, intending to drop it in the till.

Papyrus held up his other hand and it took you another long moment for the proffered red square of material to make sense. You paused long enough to consider the pristine handkerchief when the rest of your injuries finally announced themselves. Your face hurt and what you previously mistook for sweat was a trickle of blood that tracked a thin line of red from your temple. The monster must have been wearing a ring or something.

“Please?”

The warmth of the request had you smiling softly in return and you met Papyrus’ worried sockets. “Can’t say no to such a gentleman.” You accepted it, pressing it to your forehead. Your hand still ached and your leg still felt it was in fire, the pain numbing as it spread outward from your calk, but it was nothing a little hair of the dog couldn’t fix.

“You really don’t know who I am?”

“No?” But you probably should if these cats were after the skeleton. _No, no, it was none of your business. Keep your head down._

Papyrus gave you an odd smile. “I suppose that is for the better.” He hesitated, teeth parting slightly as you encouraged him with a raised brow. “This is a bit selfish of me, but I hope that I may see you again. Under better circumstances, of course. Take care of yourself human.”

“Of course. Take care, buddy.” You echoed the sentiment and the monster grinned brightly and gave a flourished bow. Watching him head off, picking his coat from the ground with a light shake, he tossed it over his arm and gathered his groceries and then just as fast as the monster arrived, he was gone.

You didn’t have the chance for a moment when a voice resounded from behind. “What the hell happened here?!”

Bill’s voice grated against your eardrums and you closed your eyes, counting quietly the rhythmic clink of the A/C unit. Shoving everything aside, you casually looked around, putting on a show of looking surprised at the mess.

“I dunno,” you answered coolly. “I’m going on break.”

You brushed past him, ignoring the interesting shade of red his face was taking on and headed out to the front of the stall, dropping the gold in the cash register. The heavy textile machine thunked solidly as you closed the drawer with your hip. Cautiously you scanned the market, looking for the telling sign of magic or angry men. The normal thinning sea of customers and sellers walked by, uncaring and unknowing of the odd little fight that happened.

“Kid!”

“What?!” You yelled back, finding how easy it was to fall back into your annoyance at the familiar voice. The green furred monster parted through the throng of people, using his girth to push through any stubborn patron and ignored the looks he received. He waddled up to your booth as you faced him, hand still pressed to your brow. Could you have one moment of peace?

“Where’s my dolly?”

You grumbled, tucking the handkerchief into your back pocket. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

What a way to start your morning.


End file.
